Conversation

Int. Room with a desk and three swivel chairs and some dusty looking potted plants. The desk is covered in little metal trays holding stacks of folders and files. Careers Advisor, a middle aged Irishman, is bending over the desk, signing letters.

Enter TSCD.

Careers Advisor (cheerfully): So you applied for that Senior House Officer (SHO) post in Critical care.

TSCD (cheerfully): Yes. I've been shortlisted for an interview this week. I can't believe they actually shortlisted me...I'm probably the least experienced person who applied.

CA: Yes, they usually like someone with more than a year's experience at SHO level, and you've only been an SHO for 5 months.

TSCD (stops smiling): That is true. That's why I'm very nervous.

CA: Oh, you don't need to be too nervous. I think you stand a good chance.

TSCD: (happy again) Really?

CA: The interviews are actually being held comparatively late in the year because of some screw-up over at medical staffing. This can only be to your advantage.

TSCD: Why is that?

CA: Well, because it's being held so late, all the really good, decent candidates will have been snatched away by other hospitals.

TSCD: ....

CA: So, it can only be good for you!

TSCD (bemused): Er...thanks.

Exit TSCD, stage left.

*****

Int. Dark room with computer and dustbin. There is a window next to the computer.

Enter TSCD, shivering and looking sad. She is holding a used tissue paper which she tosses into the dustbin.

She turns on the computer and reads this poem.

She looks out of the window thoughtfully. She is no longer shivering.

(PS. Thanks, Gilbert. That was really kind of you.)